the remains of his crew out into a huge, brightly lit boat-bay. Mitsuharu looked over the faces of his men with a measuring eye. They were all bloody, bruised, and pale with exhaustion. Some of these men have crewed three ships in this one venture. In spite of the heavy losses, he felt great relief and pride at the spirit of his surviving crew. Not one of them seemed impressed by the shining new ship surrounding them, or the ranks of armored men arrayed across the floor of the bay. Enormous banners hung from the walls, showing a crimson cross on a white field. And now another ship, another berth. Lost travelers on the road to the holy city, redeemed from bandits and rogues by the cross-men. Then he caught sight of a familiar face and smiled broadly through the grease and carbon he knew crusted his face and helmet. “ Konnichi-wa, Sencho-sana.”
Captain De Molay was waiting impatiently, arms crossed, one foot tapping on the deck. She was kitted out in the same white-and-brown space-armor as the ship’s crew. Her rank insignia was quite polished; a squared crimson cross flamed on her breast. She saluted stiffly. Wounds from the Khaiden ambush not yet mended.
“ Chu-sa Hadeishi, welcome aboard the Pilgrim.”
Mitsuharu nodded, and then returned the salute with a hand trembling with fatigue. “Our fortune improves. And my men?”
“We’ve taken almost sixty aboard already, and there are more on shuttles inbound.” The elderly woman offered him a sombre expression. “ Our medical facilities are first-rate.”
“ Infirmus fui et visitastis me,” Mitsuharu returned soberly.
De Molay stared at him in surprise, the corner of her mouth quirking into a smile. “‘I was sick and you visited me.’ That is-”
“The twentieth rule,” he said, nodding to the cross on her breastplate. “This is a strike-carrier of the Order of the Temple; I would say a refitted Norsktek Galahad -class hull with-by what I saw from the shuttle viewport-an entirely upgraded drive array. Out of the yards on New Malta?”
“It is indeed,” De Molay said, pleased. “And it is appropriate that you have attended to all her details.”
Mitsuharu’s thin black eyebrows lifted in query.
“In good time, Chu-sa,” De Molay said with no emotion whatever. “If you will step over here, please.” She guided him away from the others. Templar medical staff were everywhere in the bay, triaging the rescued Imperials. A line of grav-sleds was waiting to take the survivors away. “Come with me, there is someone who has waited a long time to see you again.”
In the tube-car, Mitsuharu closed his eyes-for just a moment-and fell sound asleep against the upholstered chair.
Tap-tap-tap went the blind man’s bamboo cane on the side of the road, ticking against the mossy rocks laid at the border. Musashi was dozing, nearly asleep in the shelter of the little shrine. Rain was drumming on the slanted, tiled roof, but his head was dry on a bundle of cloth holding the rice-paper book he’d been so laboriously writing in. He opened one eye halfway as the shuffling mendicant ducked under the eaves. “Ah, pardon,” wheezed a tired voice. “Just getting out of the rain.”
“Welcome, brother,” Musashi replied, moving his legs out of the way. Both shins were bound in bandages. “I’d offer you tea-if I had any-or a rice ball-if I had one. But I’ve neither, so you’re welcome to the dry roof at least.”
The blind man laughed, his stout face creasing into a merry smile. “The tamghachi have left this whole province hungry-or so they tell me in the inns, when there is nothing to eat.” He settled down on a little bench, head bowed over his cane.
Outside, the drumming sound of the rain was supplemented-then replaced-by the rattle of hooves on the metaled road. At first one horse, then a dozen. “Hm.” The blind man dug vigorously at one ear with a blunt finger. “Someone is coming in a great hurry. I wonder-could it be the militia? I’ve heard there is a murderer loose-he slew a tax collector some days ago.”
“Interesting.” Musashi yawned, hands behind his head. “But the militia does not ride war horses.”
Hadeishi awoke to find a sandy-haired man with knight-commander’s tabs standing beside his gurney. The familiar sounds and smells of medbay surrounded them, and De Molay was loitering behind the Templar. Her gray eyes wrinkled up in amusement at the look on Hadeishi’s face when he recognized Ketcham.
“You were in a bad way the last time I saw you, Chu-sa Hadeishi,” the European observed.
Mitsuharu smiled wryly. “Aside from far too much radiation exposure, I believe my wounds are only of the heart, Pr?ceptor Ketcham. You found another ship, I see, and one better suited to you than wildcatting with an illegal ore refinery.”
“I did.” Ketcham scratched the back of his head, failing to suppress a huge grin. “You seem to have gotten back into the hot-chair, too, by hook and by crook.”
“By stealing my ship,” De Molay grumbled. Her good humor made the elderly woman seem a dozen years younger. “Twice!”
“I returned it,” Hadeishi said quietly. He looked around the room, hoping for a comm panel.
“Much the worse for wear!” De Molay objected, jutting out her chin pugnaciously.
“He has that way.” Ketcham laughed. “You will want to know, Chu-sa , that Commander Kosho is well, though busy aboard her ship, which is somewhat… battered. We intend to ship your men across to the Naniwa as soon as she has atmosphere restored on all decks, and proper facilities prepared.”
Mitsuharu felt his heart ease at the news of the battle-cruiser’s survival and lay easier on the gurney. “Then I can sleep at last.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the tug of tremendous weariness, and wondered idly if it were possible for him to sleep for a full week. Then he sat up again, frowning at the two Templars. They had not moved, and were waiting for him expectantly.
“My men, you say, to the Naniwa. Where am I bound, if not with them?”
De Molay produced a data crystal, bound with gold and white bands. “If you recall, Chu-sa Hadeishi, you signed aboard the merchanter Wilful as an engineer’s mate. After W ilful ’s unhappy experience with marauding Khaid, you assumed emergency captaincy until such time as you engineered the capture of the Khaiden light cruiser Kader. You served as de facto captain aboard her until the vessel was evacuated. From our point of view, you are still captain of the Kader, but her fate is yet to be decided. And you are still our employee, bound by contract. One possibility is to scuttle the cruiser and add her remains to the debris along the Barrier. Another is to affect sufficient repairs to allow transit to the nearest Temple shipyard where she may either be reborn, or recycled. In any case, she is your charge. These orders-” She tapped a fingernail against the crystal. “Affirm your employment and responsibilities.”
De Molay reached for his hand and closed his thin, newly scrubbed fingers over the crystal. It seemed tremendously heavy, possessing a weight in his mind far in excess of the tiny dimensions.
Hadeishi’s glance shifted to Ketcham. “What time is it and when does the next watch begin?”
De Molay turned a snort of laughter into a sneeze.
Ketcham shook his head, putting on a forbidding expression. “You, Chu-sa, are on medbay time. Down here, I’m XO of the Pilgrim in name only. When the Infirmarian lets you go, you can take your duty station. Until then- well, you’ll have time to sleep at last.”
ABOARD THE NANIWA
IN COMPANY OF THE PILGRIM AND HER SUPPORT FLOTILLA
Chu-sa Kosho nodded in greeting to the two Imperial marines standing watch outside medbay pod twenty- seven, and then stepped inside without a pause, followed by Kikan-shi Helsdon. The pressurized door whispered
